therapy

» trophy

She threw the papers into the trashcan and kicked the little black circular box. Her fingers curled into her palms and she closed her eyes. A deep breath escaped her lips as she dropped down to the floor and ran her fingers through her hair. "I'm a mess..."

"What's wrong?" I reached into the can and pulled out diagnosis papers.

"Please don't read it."

"Okay, I respect you." I placed the papers on her desk and sat down next to her. Our backs touched the walls with torn wallpaper and our feet touched the cold hardwood floors.

"Those..those were my diagnosis papers. Doc just sent them in the mail since I had no time to pick them up."

"What for?"

"To see what type of new flaw that I have attained."

"And?"

"Anxiety. Slight depression. High levels of stress. I am a mess," she placed her head gently on my shoulder.

"You're not a mess. You just fell down the prized possession shelf and got a little bruised. You'll heal, I believe in you."

"The thing is—time does not heal. No flaw can heal without a person wanting it to."

"You don't want to heal?"

"I don't know how to heal."

"Well, come up here." I got up and opened the little window by her bed. I climbed out and slowly made my way up to the crumbling roof. I yelled back for her to bring a jacket and a blanket. I saw her frame come and lay it down underneath us.

"And what now?" She sighed.

"Just lay here with me. Tell me about what made you bruised."

"Everything..." Her voice choked up and her throat clenched. "From the ones who have similar blood running through their veins to the ones I see in school. To the strangers that walk past me in the crowds, blurred into the background. To the buildings that tower over my body. To myself and my incapabilities. I keep putting up this front. No one who actually knows me knows that I am struggling. I am seen as this 'overachiever' but I am not achieving anything in life but maybe getting the trophy for sadness."